


Questionable Choices

by andveryginger



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: “If you need a confidante,” the dark haired witch drawled, “I am the worst choice you could make of our party… save perhaps Sten. But then, given your selection of partners, I dare say you’re accustomed to poor choices.”





	Questionable Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Having just started playing through Dragon Age: Origins for the first time a week ago, this marks my first foray into any sort of DA:O fic. It has no real context, other than it follows a conversation with a former acquaintance of Alistair’s who flirted with him fairly shamelessly, much to the frustration of my warden, Emilia. (No, not that particular acquaintance – not yet.)
> 
> Originally written for Fictober Day 10: "You think this troubles me?” I read the prompt and immediately heard it in Morrigan's voice. For that, I totally blame BioWare… and this just sharpens the wish that they hadn’t been bought out by EA.

“You think this troubles me?”

Leaning against the bar, Emilia Cousland closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Morrigan,” she said with a sigh, “I don’t think there’s much that _does_ trouble you.” 

“If you need a confidante,” the dark haired witch drawled, “I am the worst choice you could make of our party… save perhaps Sten. But then, given your selection of partners, I dare say you’re accustomed to poor choices.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You should, perhaps, bother _Wynne_ with all your emotional woes.”

The warrior looked to her and blinked. “Perhaps, if I wanted to simply whine about something,” she retorted. “But you’re observant, Morrigan, and, for someone who has spent little time outside of her woodsy home, surprisingly aware of human interaction. I mention it to you not for your pity or counsel, but because of your skill. I thought – _perhaps_ – you might have observed something I did not.”

Morrigan paused, brow furrowed beneath the wispy fringe, and her amber gaze searching the Warden’s features for any signs of deceit. Finding none, she straightened. “Ah,” she said. She cleared her throat before proceeding. “Then I would say that, beyond _her_ questionable taste in men – apparently matching your own – she seemed… cunning. Duplicitous. Her flirtations with Alistair were a distraction. For you or him, I could not tell… though it seems to have affected you both.”

“Yes,” Emilia said after a long moment. “That was what I concluded as well. We will have to proceed with caution when we meet her again in the morning, then.”

“Hm, yes,” the witch said. “I would be sure not to break bread with her. Not without testing the food for tampering, whether by magic or poison.”

Emilia gave a snort of laughter, draining the last of her ale before placing the sturdy mug back onto the bar. “Believe me when I say, Morrigan, that I have no intention of this being any sort of social call. For me,” she said, “or Alistair.” Her lips quirked sideways. “Good night.”

Muttering a few curses under her breath, Morrigan shook her head and watched as the female warden crossed to the table where Alistair sat alone, nursing his own ale. He looked up as she approached, frown creasing his features. She could not hear what Emilia said to him, but his face – well, it didn’t _brighten_ , but it certainly relaxed. He slipped his hand in hers and rose slowly. They stood together for a long moment, saying nothing. The two then wandered up the stairs together.

The witch rolled her eyes and ordered another drink.


End file.
